KNOCKED UP BY THE KILLER: A Hitman Baby Romance Page 7

  “So you and your parents don’t get along?” I ask.

  “No,” she says. “My dad thought Matt was a saint; my mom hated him. Neither of them think much of me. I’m a disappointment.”

  “I know how that feels,” I admit. “Never feeling like you live up to your parents’ expectations of you.”

  “Your parents still around?” she asks.

  “My mom,” I say. “My dad died fifteen years back. I took over his payday loan joint. Grew it into what I do now. My mom thinks it’s an insult to his memory.”

  “Was that a bit of personal information you just shared with me, Finn O’Hare?” she asks, nudging me with her shoulder.

  “No,” I say, holding back a grin.

  “Next you’ll be telling me all about the love you had and lost,” she says.

  “Never,” I say.

  “You know, you are a human being,” she says. “You’re allowed a human emotion every once in a while.”

  “Too messy,” I say. “Especially in my line of work. Can’t get soft or I’d be broke. Everyone’s got a sob story. Everyone needs more time, needs help, needs a break. I’m not in the business of giving breaks. I loan money, I charge interest, I get paid back. If it doesn’t work in that order, someone gets screwed or hurt. No room for emotion to cloud things.”

  “Is this money … this three-hundred-thousand that Matt owes you … is it important to you? Like, is it a lot of money to you?”

  “It’s a lot,” I say. “I usually don’t loan that high. And that’s without any interest. But he’s gone, and I was just trying to get back the principle. But yeah, it’s a lot.”

  “Why did he borrow it?” I ask.

  “He had a shit-ton of debt; wanted to go to Atlantic City. He was hoping to buy into a high stakes poker tournament. The buy-in alone for the first game was a hundred-and-fifty-k. He said he’d pay back three times the loan if he won, and he’d bow out before he lost it all.”

  “That seems … excessively risky,” she says. “On both your parts.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. Definitely on his part, but I’ve had guys go play and come back winners. It was a lot but he said he had some past experience, that he felt confident. I took a risk. It didn’t pay off. I think … I think that three days he was gone …”

  “That seems about right,” she says, finishing my thought.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” I say. “We’ll get through this and you’ll be free of him, and me, and our dumbass choices.”

  “My husband and I never talked like this,” she says. “Thank you.”

  We sit in silence for a long time after that, just listening to the sounds of a city that never sleeps. She finally nods off with her head on my shoulder and I carry her back inside, tucking her under her covers. I brush her hair away from her face as she sleeps and I want to kiss her very badly.

  But kissing is … no. No. Too intimate. I can’t do this with her.

  Still, I can’t deny that I like this woman. She’s been through some shit. She’s been controlled by men her whole adult life. She’s been lied to. She’s been hurt. But here she is, asleep, trusting me. Telling me her life story. I’m not worthy of it. Not at all.

  I don’t want to do this to her, to put her in this position. It’s dangerous and stupid and probably doomed to failure. We’ll probably both end up dead because I am a stupid, stubborn ass. A dog with a goddamned bone. I should just bury it. Let it go.

  I should just let it go.

  Chapter Nine

  Selena

  I wake well before my alarm. Hours early, because sleep seems like something for normal people and I’m not feeling normal at all.

  Another day in hell. Can’t wait.

  Finn stirs next to me, having slept on top of the covers, even after obviously taking care to put me under them. Such a strange, sweet kindness from a man I’m not sure I’ll ever understand. He was, like, human last night. He asked me about myself, about how I felt. Matt never did.

  I’m really confused. Maybe I really do have some weird Stockholm Syndrome thing going on with this guy. Because I … I like him. I like him. And I find him sexy as hell. Ugh.

  But I’m also angry that I have to go back to work for a Russian mobster because of him. I have to go back and get demeaned and assaulted and put my baby and myself at risk because of him. And I don’t feel good about that.

  I shuffle off to use the bathroom, turning on the shower as I brush my teeth and start gearing myself up for another day.

  The more I think about it, the more I feel the panic rising again. I sit on the toilet, trying to breathe through it, but I can’t. I’m shaking and crying and when Finn comes in, he finds me doubled over, having a full-blown panic attack.

  He pulls me up and into his arms, giving me a bona fide hug, his strong arms wrapped around me, the best feeling I’ve felt recently.

  “We both need this money,” he says softly into my hair. “Let’s just see this through. Another day, dig a little deeper. We’ll get what we need and I’ll pull you out. I promise.”

  I just keep sobbing into his broad chest like a big, freaked-out baby.

  He turns and slides down the wall, pulling me into his lap, still holding tightly. “Selena,” he says softly. “Calm down. I can’t … I can’t handle these tears.”

  “Too human,” I say into his chest. “God forbid you’d be a fucking human for once.”

  I feel his jaw tense against the top of my head. He says, “It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve wanted to be.”

  I just give him time. Eventually, he says, “My sister … you remind me of her, somewhat. She was just a magnet for fucking assholes. And she had a long-term boyfriend who was an alcoholic. He beat her. I was only in high school, not nearly as big as I am now. I tried to … I tried once, but he nearly put me in the hospital. I couldn’t help her.”

  “Did he …” I can’t even ask the question.

  “She got in a car accident, though … I think she probably engineered it to look like an accident. I think she didn’t want our Catholic mother to worry about her ever-loving soul in purgatory or whatever. She used to cry all the time. It was brutal.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “About your sister.”

  “I haven’t thought about her in a very long time,” he says. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

  “Well, I disagree,” I answer. “I think that we always miss people we love after we lose them, no matter how much time passes.”

  “Maybe,” he says. “I do, I guess. Miss her sometimes. It was hard on my parents, especially my dad. My mom’s always been … distant. Controlling. Judgmental.”

  “Sounds familiar,” I muse. “So you shut off your feelings after that?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I should have then, but it wasn’t until later. But that’s not a story I want to tell. It’s in the past. Doesn’t matter anymore.”

  He continues to hold me, hug me, until I finally push away, telling him I’d better get ready for work. He looks devastated as I stand and step into the shower. It’s a look I’ve never seen on him before. And it makes me like him even more.

  ***

  Finn

  I let her shower in privacy, done with trying to control her. She doesn’t deserve this and I have a special place in hell with my name on it for putting her through this bullshit.

  When she comes into the bedroom, still dripping wet and only wearing her towel, I meet her gaze. There’s no fear there. No embarrassment or shame. No worry. No sadness. No anger. All of the emotions I’ve seen on her face are gone, replaced with one. Sympathy.

  “Don’t give me that look,” I growl.

  “What look?” she asks.

  “That sympathetic look,” I say. “I told you I haven’t thought about that shit for a long time. I don’t need your sympathy.”

  “It’s not like that,” she says, coming closer to where I sit on the edge of her bed. “I just … I feel like you’re not what I though
t you were.”

  “No, I’m definitely what you thought I was, and worse. I told you, I’m not your friend. I’m going to get us in and out and then you’ll never see me again.”

  I say this with conviction, but I’m starting to doubt myself. And by the look on her face, she’s not buying it either. Honestly, I admire this woman. She’s smart and strong. She deserves to be happy. And even though I don’t want to feel anything at all, she makes me feel. It’s been a long time, but I do remember how.

  I stand, ready to make a run for it. I’m ready to tell her this shit is off. I’m out of here. She’s free to leave or disappear or whatever she needs to do to stay safe. But when she drops her towel and gives me big eyes, I’m sunk.

  “Will you kiss me, Finn?” she asks.

  I know my face must look like I’m in pain, because I am. I want to kiss her, but if I do, it crosses a line that can’t be uncrossed.

  Fuck it.

  I lean in, pulling her warm, wet, naked body against mine. My lips find hers and, fuck, it’s been so long. My tongue slides along her bottom lip and she nips at it, opening, thrusting her tongue against mine. Well, fuck, she knows what she’s doing because damn if my cock doesn’t just salute that searing kiss.

  My hands find her bare ass and I lift her up so she can wrap herself around me, her bare pussy rubbing against my abdomen, her breasts crushed against my chest. Fuck, she feels so good.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. My head tells me over and over again, but I can’t stop. Her lips are so perfect. Her body fits mine so well.

  I swing us around and lay her on the bed but she flips the script, pushing me onto my back. She pulls at my jeans, licking her lips at the sight of my extremely-erect cock.

  “I want to please you,” she says as she begins the slow torture of kissing, biting, and licking my cheeks, nipples, stomach, pelvic bones, and thighs. Finally, she takes my cock in her mouth. She meets my gaze, never breaking it as she opens her throat, taking me balls-deep. She moves up and down, meticulous in her attentions. Her breasts, so full, hit my legs heavily each time she moves down. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  There is no part of me that wants to come in her mouth right now. She’s too good for that, and I’m too close, so I put my hands on either side of her face and beckon her up, kissing her deeply, thoroughly, tasting the salt of precum on her tongue. She straddles me then, her pussy stretching wide as I enter her. She starts to move. Her movements are slow, deliberate. I’m buried so far into her. When she moves, she pushes her body forward, hitting that special G-spot inside.

  I use my thumb to work her clit while she rides me, her movement picking up pace as her pussy quickens.

  “I’m so close,” she says breathlessly. “You feel so good inside me.”

  I sit up, taking a nipple into my mouth, my tongue swirling the sweet bud, my teeth biting just lightly.

  “More,” she groans. “Oh, yes, more.”

  When I feel the clench, I flip her to her back, still buried deep inside of her juicy slot. I pump into her slowly, hitting that special nerve each time. She grabs my ass, pushing me even deeper, crying out each time. I kiss along the lines of her neck, along her collarbone. Our lips meet again, our tongues dancing in time with each thrust.

  She arches as she comes again, her breath hitching in her throat, the smallest sound of pleasure escaping. I follow soon after, burying my cries of pleasure into the pillow beside her.

  I roll to the side quickly, but she crawls up, resting her head on my chest, laying one leg over mine. My arm rests around her shoulders.

  This intimacy is not something … normal. Not for me.

  “I feel better,” she says.

  “Everyone feels better after an orgasm,” I answer.

  “No, I mean, seeing you accept pleasure, giving you pleasure … it made me feel good. It helped,” she says.

  “Well, I’m glad?” It comes out like a question.

  She falls asleep like that and I can’t lie—it feels real good. I look at the clock and realize just how early she woke up. I reset her alarm and let her get a few more winks.

  Chapter Ten

  Selena

  When I wake up to the sound of my alarm, I’m totally confused. Did I have sex with Finn? Like, real sex? With kissing? Or was that just a dream?

  I sit up and he’s not around. No sign of Finn, though I am totally naked and definitely feeling just-fucked. I get up and take another quick shower, feeling total déjà vu, and then wander out to the kitchen. There’s a note from Finn, and a box.

  It says: I’m sorry for ripping your dress the other night. Be careful today.

  Inside the box is a lovely sheath dress in black. Very simple but elegant. Definitely nicer than the one he tore off of me.

  I eat some breakfast, trying to ignore the nerves building in my belly. I throw up everything in my stomach shortly after.

  When I’m finally ready for work, I’ve chosen to pull my hair into a long side braid. My makeup is simple, but the dress is the star. It fits perfectly. I couldn’t have picked something better for myself. Hmmm. That Finn can shop. Weird.

  I think about Finn as I walk to work. I’m kind of glad he was gone when I woke up this morning. No awkwardness after what I would consider lovemaking. Not fucking. It was sweet, tender, mutually beneficial. And he kissed me—damn—like no one has ever kissed me before.

  But he is a dangerous man. His work is dangerous. He’s a better person than Sergei, for sure; I know that now. But honestly, do I want to be in a relationship with a man who lives like he does? He’s a loan shark. He’s lived many years much like an animal, without human emotion. He doesn’t blink at the idea of hurting someone if he thinks it’s a means to an end. Is that a man I want around my child?

  If I can just get through this, get Finn the evidence he needs, then I can get away from all of this. I can take whatever I can scrape together and go somewhere far away. I can get a little job and raise my baby, and be anonymous. Start over.

  I breathe in the city. I actually love New York City, and it gives me a tiny tinge of regret to think about leaving it behind. I mean, I don’t have family here. I don’t have real friends here. It would be better to start somewhere new. Right?

  Somewhere without Finn.

  But there, too, I feel sadness. I’ve only known this man a few days but I feel connected to him somehow. I feel like he’s lived his life wounded and maybe he just needs healing. I think maybe I do, too. Could we do that for each other? He’s kind of a monster, right? He kidnapped me. Tied me up. When he ate me out, it was not with consent. I understand all of that. I’m clear on it. But it felt … good. I liked it. And I’ve liked being near him, talking to him. I enjoy how he feels inside of me.

  The emotions I feel when I’m around him are powerful. More powerful than I ever felt with Matt, even when I was falling in love with him. So what does that mean?

  And does he feel the same?

  When I get to the office, Sergei hasn’t arrived. That isn’t abnormal; I’m often the first one in. But after half an hour alone, I look at his schedule and see he’s added a breakfast meeting to his calendar. He won’t be in until after ten.

  Weird, because he never eats breakfast, but it allows me to get back into the files to dig for more information. I look through everything in the files, but there’s nothing definitive, not like what Finn is looking for. There’s got to be another drawer here, right?

  I spend an hour looking everywhere, but don’t find any additional information that will help us. I stare at Sergei’s computer for a long time. Maybe if I could figure out his password, I might find something in his digital files?

  Turns out, I don’t have to think that hard. I rummage through his desk drawer and find a notebook with random notes written in what I think is code. I start trying everything in there, picking up the patterns in his alpha-numeric code. Fun fact? My father was in the Navy and he sent messages in Morse Code during the Cold Wa
r. I actually learned a bit about code-breaking from him when I was a kid.

  Bingo! I hit the jackpot, opening up his files. Many are standard work-related files. Lots of information about the shipping manifests, cargo loads, insurance riders, and crew information. There are emails from the heads of other companies, asking for space on the ships for their own cargo.

  I find some encrypted files, though, and work through more of the notes in his notebook until I find the complicated passcode to unencrypt the files. And there it is. The mother lode.